


Chamomile is better for nerves, not tea

by olympia_m



Series: Between two places [10]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: The ones where everyone wanders endlessly, though not blindly (or, the ones where Oriya makes tea instead of chamomile)





	Chamomile is better for nerves, not tea

It takes a minute for Feilong to realise Oriya is not with him. He looks back, and there he is, listening intently to a girl playing the ehru.

“She’s good,” Oriya tells him. He waits until she finishes before leaving some money in the open case.

“You like Chinese music?”

“I like traditional music. In general. Do you?”

“Yes. I find it soothing. I like other things as well, but classical Chinese music is something I enjoy a lot. I should have checked if there is a concert we could go to.”

“Perhaps when we go back home?”

Feilong feels warm when Oriya refers to his place as ‘home.’ “Want some dumplings? There’s a very good place around here.”

“Yes.”

He’s discovering that Oriya will never say no to street food. He likes it. 

“I might have to leave you afterwards. I have some business to take care of.”

“I can come along. I’m not that useless with a gun.” 

Feilong may have lent Oriya a small pistol, just in case, but doesn’t want to test if he can use it well. “I won’t be alone,” he says pointing his head towards the men walking at a small distance behind them. 

Oriya’s expression is resigned. “Just, be careful.”

“I will be. I just need to scare someone, not start a war.” That’s all he tells Oriya; they had decided early on to keep their business lives apart, and so far it works for the best. 

“Alright. You know, if you want to go to work now, I will keep myself busy,” he laughs.

Feilong is certain of that. “I’ll see you back home, then.”

Oriya nods. He looks like he’s about to kiss him for a moment, but then pulls back. He never kisses Feilong in public, although sometimes he touches him briefly. It’s very old-fashioned, and strangely arousing. 

When he comes back after a simple job that went pear-shaped, and ended with two dead men (not his), he finds Oriya making him tea. He sits down, watching the hypnotic movement of Oriya’s hands as he whisks. It’s like something washing over him, taking away his frustration about dealing with stupid men. 

The first taste is bitter. Like the stupidity of men. “The man was with his grandson. He got scared, and pulled a gun.”

“Stupid.”

“Yes.”

“They’re both dead.” The second sip tastes of regret.

Oriya nods. “But will that get your message across?”

“Probably.”

“Then that’s good. You should eat this next,” Oriya says, offering him a small sweet shaped like a leaf. 

The sweetness drives away the bitterness. Feilong blinks. 

Oriya smiles. 

“This too will pass?”

“Balance.”

“Ah.” The third sip is just perfect. “Balance, indeed,” he smiles. Unorthodox, but wise.

&*&*

Akihito stopped in his tracks. That… “No way.” He approached the musician and studied him. “Can’t be,” he muttered. “No way.”

Still, he looked very much like Mibu-san. If Mibu-san ever wore jeans and a plain, white shirt. And he sat like a human being on a bench, not on his knees. And he did play the shamisen, only this time it made more than pling pling. 

“Mibu-san?” he asked when the man finished playing. 

“Call me Oriya, everyone does.” 

“Oh. What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like? Practicing.”

Akihito frowned. “In Tokyo?”

“My friends are getting married in a couple of days. I came to visit them.”

“Which explains everything,” he said pointing at the shamisen.

“Erm… Feilong suggested I should find something that makes me happy about my work. It turns out that’s music.”

“Ah.”

Mibu looked away from Akihito. “They drove me crazy. My friends.” He smiled. “Pre-marital nerves, both of them. There’s only so much tea one can offer them, you know?”

He didn’t, but nodded anyway. 

“I thought this might help.” He looked at the shamisen in his hand.

“Hold that pose.”

“What?”

“You look strangely… cool and,” introspective, he stopped himself. “Just stay like that for a second.” Mibu glanced at him, and then resumed his pose. It took less than a minute to take the picture. “Just one more, just in case.”

“If these are any good, I will hire you for our New Year picture cards.” Mibu smiled. 

“They will be,” he promised. “I’ll send them to you and you can decide for yourself.”

“Since you’re here, do you want me to play something for you?”

“Erm, the only traditional song I know might be sakura. I don’t think I would like to listen to that. What were you playing before?” 

“I was improvising.”

“I liked it.”

“Ok, I’ll improvise for you.” Mibu studied him. “That is precious to you, right?” he pointed at the camera.

“Yes.”

“Hm.” He lowered his head as he arranged the shamisen to a position comfortable for playing. “Maybe this? Accept my apologies,” he murmured as he started. 

It sounded nothing like a traditional piece of music. Perhaps like rock with blues influences. It wasn’t the kind of music he would listen to on his own, but it was appealing. In an unexpected way. It started off fast, and then slowed, and turned sad, only to switch to a maddening tempo, like Mibu wanted to break the strings. It was like chasing the wind.   
He took another picture. And one more when the piece stopped abruptly and Mibu stared at him with an open, curious expression. 

“That was good. I liked it,” he smiled.

“Thank you.”

“You should do this professionally.”

“I already am.”

“Ah, yes.” 

Mibu stood up. “I should go back. They’re probably in need of more tea by now.”

Akihito laughed. “Good luck with that.”

“Thank you.” He turned towards the exit.

“You should call Feilong and tell him to join you, if you haven’t already,” he suddenly shouted. “No one should be alone at a wedding.”

Mibu stopped for a second. Then he shrugged and went on. 

Akihito wished Mibu’d listen to him. Truly, being single at a wedding sucked. That much he knew. 

&*&*

“I’m so glad you came,” Oriya whispered to Feilong when they were finally alone. Watching Muraki get married was difficult enough, but knowing that Muraki had murdered a young girl the night before to ‘celebrate’ and then Oriya had had to pull some strings to make sure evidence disappeared, had made watching that wedding even more difficult. 

“No one should be alone at weddings.”

“Takaba said the same thing.”

Feilong smiled. “He’s wise beyond his years. Also, he called me to make sure I would come. He couldn’t trust you to do it.”

Oriya hugged Feilong. “I almost didn’t.” But then Muraki confessed to yet another murder and Oriya had felt so lonely. So very lonely and helpless, even as he made phone calls to people owing him favours so he could help his friend. “But then I thought I’d sleep here on my own, while Muraki and Ukyou would be together and…”

Feilong hugged him. “You did well calling me.”

He sighed. “Hold me, please. Just hold me.”

Feilong’s arms tightened around him. “Did you love him? Or her?” He nuzzled his neck. “I saw how you looked at them when you thought no one was watching.”

“Both, I guess. In different ways.” Muraki had always been so brilliant, and Ukyou so tender. One was a mountain, the other a flower. How could he not love both of them?

Feilong kissed the hollow of his throat. “A mountain, huh?”

Oriya hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud. “Yes.”

“And what am I?”

“A dragon.”

Feilong laughed. “Pick something else. That’s too obvious.”

“A river. Seductively calm, but when you get angry, you’re dangerous.”

“And you?”

“The one who sees cannot see himself.”

Feilong kicked him lightly. “Fine. Annoying.” 

“Please hold me.” Having loved for so long, and having lost them both, made him feel hollow. Feilong was wonderful, but he hadn’t had the time to fill all the parts that had belonged to Muraki and Ukyou. 

“No sex tonight?” Feilong asked after a while. “I thought that’s what happened between guests at weddings.”

“Really?” The idea of having sex in Muraki’s gothic horror of a house made him ill. 

“Fine, no sex tonight. This is a milestone in our relationship,” Feilong grinned. “We’re moving on to the next level.”

Oriya stood up, pulling Feilong with him. “You are utterly wonderful,” he told him. For finding something positive even in this situation, was what he didn’t add. “There are plenty of hotels in Tokyo; I’m certain we’ll find one to sleep tonight.”

“We’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Won’t your friends mind?”

“I doubt it.”

Feilong hugged him. “I’ll get Li to get the car. You pack your suitcase.”

“Thank you.” 

Dragons moved so swiftly once they had made up their minds. Oriya smiled. He’d never felt so swept away. It was wonderful.

&*&*

Asami believed in giving space to Takaba. They weren’t joined at the hip, after all. But that didn’t mean that he liked what he saw.   
“Getting caught up between us was one thing, but now, getting involved with that Kyoto peacock?”

Feilong shook his head. “I’m not worried.”

“Yes, because you trust the man who told you is going out for a walk, when we both know he’s meeting Takaba.” He threw down the photo of Takaba sharing a drink with Mibu, both of them laughing. It fell on top of the photo of Takaba going into a hotel with Mibu. 

“Jealousy doesn’t become you.” Feilong’s smile was smug.

“I like to keep what’s mine.”

“Do you now?” Feilong was laughing at him.

He picked up his coat. “I’m going after them. You can stay here and pretend you’re nobler than me.”

“Oh, I am.” Feilong followed him, chuckling. “I trust Oriya.”

“Yes?”

Feilong gave him a small, secretive smile. 

“You’re an idiot, blinded by emotion.”

“No, I’m a pragmatist.” Feilong was probably the only man in the world who could catch up with him effortlessly. “No man who fucks like he does, has sex with someone else.”

“Perhaps he does to hide that he’s cheating on you.” He unlocked the car.

“Oh, no. He’s too honest for that.”

Asami was about to get in when he realized the damned princess was waiting for him. “And you’re an idiot.” He opened the door for Feilong, letting him win at this little game.   
“Fine, maybe I am. What will you do when you catch them?”

Asami shrugged. He’d probably fuck Takaba until he remembered to whom he belonged. 

“Oriya is mine. You don’t touch him.” Feilong’s tone was serious. 

“And what will you do when we catch them?”

Feilong shrugged. 

Asami nodded. Feilong would probably cut his dick off. And then feed it to him. He looked that serious. 

The rest of the drive was quiet, but Asami felt no calmness. Fine, he’d let Feilong deal with that bastard, but Takaba was his. 

He parked at the hotel. “Are you ready for this?”

Feilong made a face. “Fuck you. What do you want to bet that there’s nothing happening between them?”

“How about you admit that you were wrong when we catch them?”

“Fine. And you’ll do the same when we see that there’s nothing happening.”

“Deal.” They shook hands. Asami got out first. “You can open the door, surely.” Feilong glared. Asami opened the door for him again. “You’re spoiled.”

“No, I am aware of my position.” Asami glared at him, but Feilong wasn’t looking. He was studying the hotel, instead. “It does look like a place Oriya would choose, though. Exclusive, boutique hotel.”

He walked in. Asami followed him. Only to almost fall on Feilong’s back, who’d stopped abruptly.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Muraki,” Feilong spat out. “Let me pass.”

“No.”

“Still don’t believe me?” Asami whispered in Feilong’s ear. 

Muraki took a step back. “Let’s all have a drink, shall we? The bar here is excellent.”

“Stop wasting our time,” Asami growled. 

“Did Oriya put you to this?” Feilong asked flatly. 

“No, he’s not that cunning.” Muraki smiled. “I’m paying back a favour. Out of many.”

“Move,” Asami said in a low voice. 

“No,” Muraki kept smiling like the whole thing was a big joke.

“I said…” 

“Sir,” the receptionist interrupted him.

“You, shut up.”

She did, shocked. 

“You,” he glared at Muraki, “Move. Now.”

Muraki refused to budge. Feilong hit him on the chest, and Muraki fell down. “What?” he looked as shocked as the receptionist. “How?”

“That’s a snake you’re dealing with, you asshole,” Asami grinned, proud of Feilong. 

Feilong leaned against the reception desk. He showed the receptionist the photo of Takaba and Mibu walking in the park. “Their room. Which one is it?”

She handed him a key with a meep. 

“Good girl,” Feilong smiled. 

Asami shuddered. “Takaba is mine. You don’t touch him.” He followed Feilong, aware that Muraki was following them.

“Can’t you just leave it be?” he told them once in the elevator. 

“If you speak again, I’ll break your arm,” Feilong said.

Muraki grinned. “You won’t have a chance. I know what to expect now.” The elevator door opened. “Seriously, walk away. Now.”

“Or what?”

“Or…” Muraki sighed, as Feilong located the room and opened the entrance all in less than ten seconds. “Well, I did my best,” he muttered, leaning against the wall. 

Asami frowned. “Is that a shamisen?”

“No, a _sanxian_ ,” Feilong answered, with a small, barely there, frown of his own.

“What the fuck?” Asami opened the door that must have led to the bedroom. It led instead to a small, cozy-looking living-room. Where Takaba sat on the floor, pictures all around him that he hastily tried to gather together, and Mibu sat on the couch, stringed instrument in hand. 

“Hello,” Mibu told them.

Asami blinked. “What is the meaning of this?”

Takaba’s surprised expression turned into annoyed. “What are you doing here? Were you following me?”

Asami couldn’t answer him.

“I thought you trusted me,” Takaba screamed. 

“I do. It’s him I don’t trust.”

Feilong sat next to Mibu. “I do. Told you nothing was happening,” he grinned. “So, _sanxian_?” he smiled at Mibu.

“You are the most overbearing, annoying,” Takaba continued. 

“It will take me a while before playing the _pipa_ well. But this is quite close to shamisen. See?” He played something rapidly that almost drowned out Takaba’s voice.

“Possessive, manipulating, jealous,” Takaba went on. “Stop that, I’m shouting here.”

Mibu did, and stared at Takaba. And stared. 

Takaba stopped as suddenly as he’d started. 

“You were getting angry,” he told Takaba. “And you were being possessive,” he told Asami. “What you did was wrong. You cannot own a person, even when you buy them. Much less when you love them.”

“He’s a member of the family too?” Muraki suddenly said, grinning. “You should have told me.”

“What?”

Mibu glared. “Muraki, be quiet. Please. You’re giving me a headache.”

Muraki sat down, by Mibu’s feet and next to Takaba. “So, pictures of…” He picked up some of the photos Takaba hadn’t gathered near him. “Asami-san,” he grinned. 

Takaba looked embarrassed. “I wanted to make an album. With photos for you. And of you.”

Mibu looked at the photo Muraki was holding. “That’s a good one, Takaba. You should add it.”

Asami sat down, next to Takaba. “I’m sorry.”

Takaba looked away from him, still annoyed. 

“You should apologize to me as well,” Feilong laughed. “Or at least tell me I was right.”

“Like you never thought, even for a moment, that Oriya was cheating on you?” Muraki smiled knowingly. 

Mibu put his hand on Feilong’s before Feilong could speak. “It doesn’t matter whether you thought it or not. And I don’t want to know if you did.”

“Yes, let the child lie to you,” Muraki said with the same obnoxious smile. 

Feilong shook his head. “We promised, no lies between us. So I will not lie. For a moment, I was worried. For a moment I wanted to know, because if you were cheating on me, I deserved to know.”

“I would never cheat on you.” 

“I know. Now.” Feilong took the instrument off Mibu and kissed his hand. Mibu hugged him, leaning against him until their foreheads touched. They stayed like that, with eyes closed. 

It was a bit too private for Asami, and he looked away. 

“I wouldn’t cheat on you,” Takaba told Asami quietly. “But I am my own person, and you should respect that.”

“You’re right. I was wrong.” Asami looked at Feilong, who was still in Mibu’s arms. “You were right too.” Feilong smiled in acknowledgement. 

“This is like a session of group therapy,” Muraki muttered, standing up. His voice was like it broke a spell, and Feilong disentangled himself slowly from Mibu. “Well, with no one killing anyone, it’s no fun. I’ll see you for dinner tonight?” he asked Mibu. “Hell, maybe I should see you all for dinner. Ukyou is trying her hand at cooking.”

“I’ll make reservations for six at eight,” Mibu said. “I’ll pick you up at seven, my choice of place, and you’d better be ready on time.”

“Thank you, oh, thank you,” Muraki said, sounding relieved. “I’ll see you later.”

Asami stood up next, and then gave his hand to Takaba to help him up. “Well, we should leave as well. See you at…?”

“Ten to eight, our hotel,” Mibu said. 

“See you later, then,” Takaba said, smiling. 

Asami hugged Takaba as they left, feeling relief when Takaba allowed it. “Why hide this?” he asked, pointing at the photographs. 

“It was supposed to be a gift for New Year. You always buy me expensive things. I wanted to give you something of mine.”

Asami felt warm inside. “And Mibu?”

“He has an eye for beauty. He’s helping me choose, and I listen to him practice. It’s strangely interesting when he plays music.”

“I thought you hated it.”

“No, not this. He calls it ‘practicing’ fingerings, but I suspect he’s composing something.”

“For Feilong?”

Takaba nodded. “I think so. He makes me talk of him.” He frowned. “It’s good to talk about him, what he put me through. It helps, you know.”

“You can talk to me.”

“Yes, but you get mad sometimes when I do, and cold. I feel like I can’t reach you.” Takaba hugged himself. 

Asami felt helpless for a moment. Then he took Takaba’s hand again. “I’m always here for you. Just don’t expect me to say it all the time.”

Takaba smiled, nodding. “I know. But maybe you could say it every now and then?”

Perhaps he could, he smiled.


End file.
